


Simple Remedies

by festlich



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Illustrated, M/M, Minor Injuries, One Shot, Tending Wounds, Zevran flirting shamelessly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-08 13:23:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12865392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/festlich/pseuds/festlich
Summary: ‘My name is Zevran, Zev to my friends’ the assassin- Zevran, said and propped himself up on a forearm and when he smiled there was blood in his teeth.





	Simple Remedies

River's head was swimming with adrenaline when Alistair called out that the battle was over.

 

He could feel his heartbeat in his finger tips as he slowly released his bowstring, pointing the slack arrow towards the ground. His knees creaked as he rose from his crouch in the tall grass, mud and dead leaves sticking to his clothes and boots.

 

He scanned the small valley from his vantage on the hillock.

 

The bodies of the mercenaries were scattered but unmoving in the churned earth. It had begun to rain during their fight, a soaking drizzle that had quickly turned the damp earth into slick mud and the battle field into an obstacle course.

 

He looked for the leader, the flaxen haired elf who had declared that the Grey Warden would die here and found him face down in the mud, Leliana standing over him with her pretty face cooly blank. She had her arrow trained in a deceptively loose grip at his still back, Alistair and Morrigan were carefully picking their way across the field to join her.

 

'Is he dead?' River called out as he slung his bow across his chest and started to scale down the small hill to meet his companions.

 

Alistair was attempting to flick mud off of his filthy gauntlets when he spoke 'No, I don't think so. He got a few good hits in with those daggers but slipped on the mud, gave me enough time to knock him over the head. Might’ve grazed his back but nothing serious.'

 

Morrigan primly toed the prone man with her boot, 'That could be easily rectified, if you wish.'

 

What River wished was to be out of the rain, preferably with a fire and something hot and possibly alcoholic to drink.

 

Before he could answer one way or the other they heard said Elf groan wetly and begin to push himself up and out of the road muck.

 

River cautiously watched as the Elf blinked up at them through the misting rain and asked in a lilting Antivan accent, 'Mm... Oh... What? I.. I rather thought I would wake up dead. Or not wake up at all as the case may be. But I see you haven't killed me yet.'

 

Morrigan gave River a withering look, 'As I said, that could be rectified' her caged hand sparked once with a crack of lightning for emphasis. The assassin didn’t flinch and that meant he was either very good at what he did or he was stupid.

 

Considering his position perhaps the latter was more likely.

 

River held up a hand towards Morrigan and her expression grew more sour but she ceased, Leliana shuffled her weight from one foot to the other and Alistair looked like a drowned rat.  

 

None of them spoke again.

 

River looked back down at the elven assassin, 'No, I have questions for you before we decide what to do with you.' River could feel the water dripping from his hair down the back of his collar, making him shiver, he’d deal with this quickly.

 

‘My name is Zevran, Zev to my friends’ the assassin- Zevran, said and propped himself up on a forearm and when he smiled there was blood in his teeth.

  
  


                                                                                                                                   *

It was a surprise to everyone involved when the interrogation ended with River reaching down to clasp the would-be assassin’s hand to help him to his feet. Half of his body was caked in mud and his pale hair was dark with rain but he was still smiling and seemed unperturbed by the fact that he’d almost been killed and his plan was thwarted.

 

Alistair was still muttering about being stabbed in his sleep but otherwise didn’t protest, turning on his heel and starting back towards camp, Morrigan and Leliana close behind him.

 

‘And what may I call you, my fine Elven friend?’ Zevran said as he proceeded River up the path.

  
River could see the wound on Zevran’s back now, a long but shallow looking gash, and winced; It would need tending and it took Zevran throwing a pale eyed glance over his shoulder to remember that he’d been asked a question.

 

‘River. So Loghain knows we’re not dead. It was only a matter of time.’

 

River had thought that the General reminded him an awful lot of every other human noble he’d ever met. Full of their own self righteousness and importance and a firm believer in the omnipotence of their power

 

‘You have not exactly been subtle in your actions, Grey Warden RIver’ Zevran was limping slightly as they moved to equal pace.

 

Zevran was an inch or two taller than River’s own average height and leanly muscled. He was clad in light leather armor better suited for Antiva’s warmer climate. ‘You…’ River started, staring down Zevran’s rain soaked body, ‘I?’ Zevran said, a smile thick in his voice.

 

Zevran’s gaze was assessing but friendly and it made River embarrassed to be so thoroughly sussed, ‘You must be cold. Camp’s this way.’

  
Trudging purposefully through the brush, River tried not to dwell on tanned exposed limbs and the pale, pale yellow eyes Zevran had fixed on his back.

  


*

The rain had ebbed and disappeared into a wet fog by the time they all reached the campsite.

Their newly acquired and resolutely stoic Qunari companion had kept the fire going in a surprisingly thoughtful gesture, or perhaps he simply didn’t want to freeze, River thought.

 

Zevran and River, the last to arrive, stood close to the crackling flames trying to get some feeling back into their fingers and other extremities. The fire had burned off the chill and created a pocket of warmth around the perimeter of the tents

 

The mabari they’d rescued from Ostagar who’d been lounging close by warming it’s naked belly perked up and barked once in warning at Zevran and growled low in it’s throat, roused by the returning group.

 

“Don’t mind the dog” River said, wary of the animal himself having never owned such a creature, let alone one as powerfully muscled and intimidating as a pure bred Mabari. “As long as you don’t try to kill anyone here it’s harmless.”

 

Zevran inched closer to River but inclined his head at the animal in acknowledgement, “A fine beast- I have heard of Ferelden Mabari. A true pinnacle of the species you have. And a good thing you left it behind, no?”

 

The dog sneezed once and cocked it’s head, hackles lowering when it heard its master’s chuckle of amusement.

 

Once authority had been established, the dog’s big brown eyes locked on River and it’s tongue lolled out of it’s sharp toothed muzzle as it rolled onto it’s back in a pitiful belly display. “Truly a fearsome beast.”

 

They lingered near the fire long enough to start to feel uncomfortable in their damp clothes and River directed Zevran to a nearby tent to change out of his wet things before he found his own to do the same.

 

Once stripped of his soaked armor and in some slightly damp but warm travelling clothes River emerged to find all of his motley crew, save it’s newest member, crowded around the fire chatting quietly and sipping from bowls and dented tin cups.

 

River could see a silhouette in the lamp light of the tent Zevran was occupying moving about with purpose.

 

He really ought to leave the man be and see to his supper only… Zevran had been limping when they’d left the battlefield and he’d had a rather nasty gash across his back where an errant sword had sliced through his leathers.  

 

Sighing deeply and raising a hand in acknowledgement to Leliana and Alistair’s greeting he wandered over to Zevran’s tent, watching as the shadow stopped and presumably listened before he cleared his throat at the flap.

  
“Zevran?” River called out tentatively.

 

“Ah River, just who I had hoped to see. Would you mind assisting me with something?” River frowned at the sliver of orange light he could see between the two tent flaps and cleared his throat again, suddenly nervous.

  
“Uh, sure, if I can. What do you need?”

  
Zevran’s blonde head suddenly appeared out of the tent and River had to back up quickly or risk their skulls cracking together and nearly slipped onto his arse on the wet grass.

 

“Apologies my friend, I have a rather personal request- I need stitches. And I am unable to reach the location of the wound. Would you perhaps do me the favor?”

 

Zevran’s bare arms also appeared holding a curved needle and a length of catgut, his handsome face was wan and slick with sweat but he was smiling still.

 

River’s eyes widened but he was quick to agree and said, “give me a moment to get some things, and then I’ll be right there.”

 

*

 

First he requisitioned some of the hot water from a soot blackened kettle hanging above the fire and a bowl and rag. Then he swung back to his tent and dug out his own personal supply of Elfroot poultice and a roll of cotton strip from his rucksack, the whole endeavor only taking a couple of moments.

 

With his arms ladened by his supplies he made his way back to Zevran’s tent and only hesitated for a few seconds before pushing aside the flap with a muttered, “coming in.”

  
Zevran sat shirtless and cross legged on his bed roll, a blanket tucked snugly around his waist and not much else. He was attempting to see the wound on his shoulder with what looked like a small pocket mirror.

 

He turned his molten gold eyes on River and River felt his throat click with a dry swallow.

 

“I brought a few more things, need to clean it before we stitch it.” Zevran reached gingerly for the needle and sutures once more as he shifted so the long, tanned expanse of his naked back was exposed to River. “Excellent, most of my own supplies were unfortunately trampled in the maelstrom, I appreciate it.” His voice was jovial but it was clear the man was in pain.

 

Carefully setting down his accoutrements River settled down and tried to mentally prepare himself. Zevran’s pale yellow hair was hanging in the way of the cut and River reached for it, carefully brushing it over one of the man’s shoulders and bit his lip as he saw a wave of gooseflesh break out where his fingers touched.

 

“Cold fingers, sorry. I wouldn’t make a very good doctor.” River whispered as he dipped the clean rag into the hot water and began cleaning the wound. Zevran didn’t even flinch but his reply was warm and immediate, “I think you would make an excellent doctor, cold hands aside. Your fingers are nimble and steady- they must be for you to use that handsome bow.”

 

River’s face felt hot as he asked for the needle and felt even more flustered when Zevran handed it over and their fingers brushed and lingered.

  
River’s only saving grace was that Zevran could not see his face although he had a suspicious feeling that Zevran knew of his embarrassment regardless and found it amusing. “I’m going to start stitching now, try not to move”

 

Zevran laughed low and dark and said softly, “anything you wish.”

 

True to his word, Zevran didn’t shudder, flinch or move at all other than his slow, even breathing.

 

He didn’t make a pained grunt or whimper but neither did he fill the heated silence with chatter. He seemed the sort of man to fill silences with sound if only for his own benefit.

 

When River had tied off the last suture he said quietly, “done, I’ll just put some poultice on it if you don’t mind. Then we should wrap it. It’s going to scar but…” River had noticed the peppering of scars across Zevran’s otherwise smooth back. There were some that could have killed and had scarred poorly.

 

“Another for the collection, and I can tell all my future lovers that it was a Grey Warden who put it there. An infamous one at that! Ah! That is cold” Zevran hissed as River smeared the grassy smelling paste over Zevran’s stitches carefully.   


Once they had awkwardly wrapped the cotton tightly over Zevran’s doctored back, the man had turned around as River began to collect his things and River felt his breath catch in his throat.

 

Backlit by the small oil lamp, Zevran was truly gorgeous. His pale hair was burnished gold, his skin looked bronze and the swirling black ink across his face body stood out like arcane script.

 

And he was naked, his thin blanket the only thing covering his narrow hips.

 

River looked away with a concerted effort but Zevran had seen his lingering stare and had not minded. In fact, River noted, the other man’s breathing had sped up under scrutiny.

 

Zevran liked being watched and he was doing it himself.

  
River felt self conscious of his low cut shirt and skin tight breeches but before he could beat a hasty retreat, Zevran’s arm reached out and his strong hand gripped River’s shoulder. “Thank you, River, I appreciate your help and… should you need any help of your own, say, in your own tent. Please, feel free to ask me. Anytime.” Zevran leaned forward in emphasis on that last word until their foreheads were nearly touching.

 

River, who had kissed a grand total of three people in his life and not done much else could only breath out, “yes” before he was out of the tent, heated body and face shocked by the cold air.

  
Morrigan called out from her spot near the fire, “Are you aware that you look like a lunatic?”   
  
River’s face was split in a broad grin as he told her to shut up, her laughter her only response.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Kudos are appreciated! Illustrated by myself


End file.
